Chapter Text
It was ten past seven when Willis jolted awake. He scrambled out of bed, feet tangling in the sheets for a split second before he caught himself, nearly planting face-first on the floor. A soft, sleepy whine drifted from the nest tucked in the corner, and he froze, steadying his breath before turning.
Jason was still fast asleep, curled tight around a brown stuffed bear nearly his size his beloved Mr. Bearington, who’d been his constant companion since he was tiny. A fond smile tugged at Willis’s lips, warmth flooding his chest. The Omega leaned down, nuzzling his nose into Jason’s soft, sun-kissed hair, breathing in the sweet, untainted scent of his unpresented pup. Pure and warm, like fresh bread and summer rain.
Mr. Bearington had half-buried Jason’s face, so Willis gently shifted the toy just enough to peek at his son’s peaceful expression, lashes fanned against round, rosy cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch that soft cheek, so tempting, but held back, knowing Jason still had thirty minutes of sleep to savor. Time Willis didn’t have, though. Work waited, and so did breakfast.
As much as he wanted to curl back up in the nest’s soft blankets beside Jason, he had to get moving. Jason had daycare, and Willis would rather endure a thousand scalding cups of coffee than send his boy there with an empty stomach or no snack box packed full of his favorites. With a soft kiss to Jason’s forehead, he slipped out of the nest and into his morning routine. Boiling oats, slicing fruits, showering quickly, and tidying up the small space.
By quarter to eight, a sleepy figure stumbled out of the nest. Jason rubbed one bleary eye with a clenched fist, the other hand yanking Mr. Bearington by the ear as he dragged himself toward the kitchen.
“Good morning, Jay-jay.” Willis folded his newspaper, set it aside, and stood up to scoop the pouting little one into his arms. He peppered Jason’s cheeks with quick, playful kisses, and the pup squawked, trying to push him off before dissolving into a whine. “Kisses attack!”
“No kisses attack, Daddy!” Jason mumbled, shoving his face into the crook of Willis’s neck. He sniffed loudly, and Willis gently urged his gland to release soft, calming pheromones, waves of love, care, I love you wrapping around them. Jason melted instantly in his arms. “Mr. Bear kisses?” he asked, pulling the stuffed toy up and offering it to Willis.
How could he say no? Willis smiled, leaning down to press a quick peck to Mr. Bearington’s fuzzy brown head. “Mr. Bear gets kisses too, of course.”
That seemed to do the trick. Jason closed his eyes with a soft puff of breath, his body going limp and warm against Willis’s chest. He would’ve drifted right back to sleep if Willis had let him. And oh, how Willis wanted to. Holding his little boy like this, curled up small and peaceful in his arms, felt like holding the whole world. He cherished every single second, his arms tightening just a little more, reluctant to let go.
Alas, time wouldn’t wait.
Willis gently shook Jason awake, and the pup immediately let out a grumpy whine, followed by a tiny, rumbling growl. It had no bite at all, too soft, too young, a kitten pretending to be a lion. Still, Willis felt a quiet certainty settle in his chest. He’d long suspected it, and he just knew. One day, Jason would present as an Omega.
He laughed anyway, booping Jason’s nose playfully. “Oh! So scary! My heart’s practically pounding in my boots!”
“Nooooo!” Jason wailed, letting his whole body go limp and hanging off Willis’s arms like a sack of potatoes. Mr. Bearington dangled from one hand, his fuzzy paws brushing the floor and nearly slipping out of Jason’s grip. “I wanna sleep. Please, sleep Daddy?”
That pout — those big, round eyes, stuffed cheeks, and messy curly hair — would’ve melted the resolve of any lesser Omega parent. Willis knew better, though; he’d raised this boy and recognized his little manipulations all too well. Still, it was a near thing, his heart twisting a little at the sleepy plea. “No, Jay. You need to go to school, and I have to get to work.”
He set the boy gently on the floor, then turned to round the kitchen counter, scooping a bowl of creamy sweet oats topped with glistening berries and sliced mango, just how Jason liked it. The pup scrambled up onto a wooden stool, plopping Mr. Bearington onto the empty seat beside him and propping the bear up like a dining companion.
Willis fixed his own plate next, then pulled out the chair opposite Jason and sat down. They ate in a comfortable quiet, the only sounds the clink of spoons against bowls and the rustle of Willis’s newspaper as he picked up where he’d left off.
He turned the page, and his eyes snagged on the headline—BODY FOUND IN ROBINSVILLE PARK. His toast paused mid-air, the poece of bread falling haphazardly on his plate.
The article detailed a gruesome discovery: a man crucified to an old oak tree, naked and drained of blood, his chest marred by a burnt, jagged mark seared into the skin. The Bat symbol. Witnesses had whispered of it, even if the GCPD was still dragging its feet on an official statement. No one needed a press release to know what it meant. This was another warning from Gotham’s oldest, most powerful pack, the ones who’d ruled the city’s shadows for decades.
Willis’s jaw tightened, and he bit down on his lower lip, worrying the soft flesh between his teeth until it stung. His gaze flicked unconsciously to Jason, who was busy mashing a strawberry into his oats, chattering softly to Mr. Bearington like the bear could understand every word.
A cold prickle ran down his spine. It’s fine, he told himself, pressing his fingers lightly to the edge of the newspaper as if grounding himself. No one knew. Even Jason’s birth certificate had been carefully crafted to bury the truth. There was no point in worrying. Jason was safe here, far from all that blood and suffering. He’d made one mistake once, a choice that had tied them to that world, but he’d never let his pup step foot in it again.
Jason is safe.
No one knows.
They’re safe.
Jason is my son. No one knows.
He repeated the words like a mantra, each one a quiet promise made to himself and the boy across the table. It would stay that way. No matter what.
Willis tore the newspaper down the middle and crumpled it into a tight ball, his knuckles white around the paper.
There’s no point in worrying.
Yet, he couldn’t outrun the thunderous waves of terror crashing inside him.
The Waynes were powerful—their influence seeped into every corner of Gotham. Even in the parts of the city they didn’t fully control, whispers of the Bats still lingered, sharp and terrifying. Willis wasn’t blind or stupid; he knew hiding from them was a futile game. The only thing he could do was blend in, make themselves invisible in the noise.
So that’s why he shouldn’t worry. He’d done everything to make them ordinary. Jason was fine. They were fine.
“Daddy?” Jason’s soft voice cut through the storm in his mind.
Willis looked up sharply. “Yes, Jay?”
Jason’s brows were furrowed, his little face twisted with worry. Why does he look worried? Willis’s mind raced. Is something wrong? Is the breakfast bad? Are the fruits too big? Is he choking? Then it hit him — oh fuck, the room was thick with the sharp, sour scent of citrus, the cloying smell of a scared, anxious Omega. His pheromones had spilled out unchecked, and Jason’s eyes were already glistening, affected by the sudden wave of fear.
Willis scrambled to rein himself in. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry—”
“Daddy scared? Daddy you smell wrong!” Jason’s lips wobbled, tears pricking at his lashes.
“I know. I know, I—” Fuck. He was messing this up. Willis sucked in a deep, steadying breath, forcing his nerves to settle. He pulled back the sour pheromones as much as he could, releasing soft, warm waves instead, drowning the fear in affection and reassurance. “I’m okay, Jay-jay. Daddy just read something scary on the paper. I’m okay now.”
Jason perked up at that, craning his neck to peek at the crumpled paper ball. Willis was glad he’d torn that page up. “Scary? There’s zombies?”
“No. But spiders. Lots of ’em!”
“Eek! Where? Daddy where?” Jason scrambled a little on his stool, blue eyes wide.
“Very far away, Jay. We’re safe here, don’t worry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, baby. Eat your breakfast — and make sure Mr. Bear eats his too, okay?”
Jason nodded enthusiastically, his earlier worry melting away as he turned back to his bowl, already scooping a spoonful of oats toward Mr. Bearington’s snout.
Willis managed to corral his own worries back into the far corners of his mind and finished his breakfast, though the food sat heavy and wrong in his stomach, his thoughts still racing with quiet fear, even as he forced himself to eat. Consciously, he kept releasing soft, calming pheromones, wrapping them around the kitchen like a gentle blanket.
And when he felt his own anxiety prickle at the edges again, he sought out Jason’s scent — sweet, untainted, like fresh berries and sunshine — and breathed it in deep, letting it ground him, steadying his fraying nerves.